


Masked Bloodlust

by orphan_account



Series: Suits Soiled With Crimson [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, I don't know what I'm doing, M/M, Organized Crime, Violence, there's knives involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 03:47:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10267433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “If he doesn't get out more,I’llbe the one cleaning every excess corpse he leaves behind out of spite!” Yuri bristled with a stomp of his feet.Viktor only gave the teen a dazzling smile in return.Yuuri simply brushed off what had unfolded before him. “It’s fine, I’m never left on my own accord after all.” The pterodactyl-like screech Yuri made was also ignored.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea for a series awhile back and I couldn't help myself...hopefully you enjoy this piece of shit I pulled out of my ass at 3 am.  
> (I don't have the luxury of a beta so I apologize beforehand for any grammatical mistakes)

Yuuri sat cross-legged in his plush office chair as he shuffled through the pile of paperwork in front of him. Next to that stack was Viktor’s back facing towards him, sitting crisscrossed on Yuuri’s desk. 

The man was wearing a navy blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, a black necktie hanging loosely around his collar. His stresses were tied up in a ponytail, stray strands of silver to cascade down his left eye, locks holding a heavenly glow from the light filtering through the bay window behind them. 

Viktor was such a visage, even if his back was the only thing in view.

The Russian turned around from his position as he heard an exasperated sigh coming from the younger. “Is something the matter, _lyubov moya?_ ”

A huff of laughter elicited through flared nostrils as Yuuri dropped the pen in his hand to brush the loose strands of hair out of Viktor’s eyes. Viktor leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. The palm rested on Viktor’s cheek, slender fingers lightly touching the evident scar underneath his left eye.

The doors leading to Yuuri’s office suddenly flung open with a loud creak - causing the two of them to jolt up in surprise - as Yuri sauntered in with heavy footsteps and a pissed off expression. They watched as the intruder submerged himself into Yuuri’s rather large, plush velvet armchair without even sparing them a single glance upon entering.

“Yuri, what brings you here?” Yuuri eventually questioned, one hand moving to intertwine with Viktor's.

Yuri finally looked up at the two and seemed to instantly regret doing so, face set in a dark grimace at their display of affection.

“I cleaned up that blood bath you left in that warehouse of ours a few days ago,” Yuri grumbled, deciding not to comment on it. “Honestly, do you know how hard it is to get rid of blood once it _stains_ \- ?”

“Yuri, I didn't ask for your _sass_ \- ”

“Yeah, yeah," the boy waved off dismissively. “Anyways, it’s about damn time you take a fucking walk or something. You’ve been cooped up in here for days now, I’m concerned for your sanity.”

“ _Awh_ , Yurio’s _concerned_ ,” Viktor cooed, easily dodging the phone that flew straight to his face right after. 

“If he doesn't get out more, _I’ll_ be the one cleaning every excess corpse he leaves behind out of spite!” Yuri bristled with a stomp of his feet. 

Viktor only gave the teen a dazzling smile in return. 

Yuuri simply brushed off what had unfolded before him. “It’s fine, I’m never left on my own accord after all.” The pterodactyl-like screech Yuri made was also ignored. 

“Yurio does make a point,” Viktor chided in, playing at the ends of his hair, “you deserve a break, love.” Small knocks rippled through the room as Viktor swung his feet back and forth against the desk. 

With a reluctant sigh, Yuuri moved to stand. He proceeded to stretch out stiff and unused muscles with each one resonating a satisfying crack. Removing his suit jacket and handing it to Viktor, the hen turned to Yuri who gave him a curious look. 

“I was quite busy so I didn’t get the chance to tell you.” Yuuri’s expression suddenly shifted into a feral smile, brown eyes determined and sharp, in contrast to his light and innocent tone. “A few hours ago, dear Viktor here sniffed out a couple of… _whistleblowers_. I need you to sort out that little situation for me. Hopefully that’ll make up to all your ‘cleaning duties.’" 

“Sure, whatever,” Yuri muttered, submerging further into the chair and directed his gaze down at his shoes. He may try to hide it, but Yuuri had already caught a glance of the grin playing at the younger's lips.

“Great!” Yuuri cheered, clapping his hands together. “I’ve already informed Otabek, I’m sure he’ll fill you in on the specifics.” And with that, Yuuri left the room on silent hinges with a pep in his step. 

Viktor chuckled at the younger man’s antics, moving to pursue him in the disguise of the dimly lit halls. 

That left Yuri alone on his own accord. 

“Beka,” Yuri called from his spot, unmoving. 

Otabek appeared in front of him in a matter of seconds, settling into the chair identical to the one Yuri was in. “Shouldn’t we follow their lead?” 

“Nah, not yet,” Yuri responded laconically, lifting his legs up onto the small table in between them. “Once that false sense of security kicks in, they won’t know what’ll hit them.” Albeit being a little pissed-off, he seemed satisfied with what had transpired. 

“Devious as ever, I see.” 

Yuri snorted. 

# __________ 

“How’s it hanging?” 

Phichit looked up from his spot next to Seung-Gil, his eyes immediately landing on Yuuri. His demeanor seemed to brighten up at the sight of his friend as he peeled himself off the Korean - who he’d draped his arms over - thrusting himself at Yuuri to pull him into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Yuuri! Where’ve you been?!” Phichit was practically vibrating as he tugged Yuuri in from his spot at the door. 

“I’ve been busy,” Yuuri replied with a small smile, letting himself get dragged along. “Hey, Seung-Gil,” Yuuri waved at the petite Korean. 

Seung-Gil greeted him with a nod before going back to work on bandaging the cuts and bruises littered all over Michele’s right arm. 

“What happened?” Yuuri questioned, not at all surprised by the Italian's condition, trails of blood exuding from the cuts like miniature waterfalls. That was expected in their line of work. 

“That Canadian wuss _needs_ to get his men under control,” he hissed as Seung-Gil wiped the wounds clean with alcohol. “Some wanker decided to start a fight with me.” 

“He started something he couldn’t finish,” Seung-Gil mumbled. 

Michele’s chest visibly swelled up with self-pride. 

“It's been the fifth time this month since JJ and his men went all berserk.” Phichit snickered, going down on one knee to imitate the well-known pose of JJ’s. His face set in a mocking smolder, eyes sparkling. 

“Phichit, _please_.” Seung-Gil side-eyed Phichit who was currently making a very accurate impression. Michele’s expression seemed to darken, murmuring something about having to leave his sister’s side. 

Yuuri’s shoulders shook with laughter as he watched them bicker. 

#  __________

There were three figures loitering in the dark alleys, speaking lowly amongst themselves. It was an eerily quiet and cramped place, littered with filth and some reminiscences of past brawls resulting in small dried pools of crimson. 

Yuuri continued to his approach, face set in an indecipherable expression. He was a rose amongst thorns, dressed in a crisp ruby-red button up tucked in rather tight fitting slacks, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal toned arms. A dark waistcoat hugged his torso tightly in all the right places, showing off the beautiful arch of his back. 

The man had noticed his presence and informed his supposed entourage. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in these parts?” the leader, according to the information Viktor had accumulated, drawled out in a sultry tone. 

Now that they were up close and personal, Yuuri surveyed him. The brunette was a few inches taller than him with broader shoulders and a stronger built, same goes for the two behind him. He and his men were in no possession of any expensive suits or garments, unlike most who are knee-deep into the mafia would. They were mere thugs, Yuuri concluded. 

His two underlings surrounded Yuuri, flanking him on both sides as to limit his chances of escaping. Eyes roamed up and down his lithe and sturdy form as if he was a meal, the men inched towards him with gleeful expressions just from the prospect of getting a good fuck. 

It was an advantage, in Yuuri’s part, when he was to be underestimated. 

“Mr. Brenton, is it?” Yuuri asked, dismissing the silence surrounding them. 

“That would be me, yes.” He answered with a curt nod, a pleased smirk greeting his features. 

“I've been informed that you’ve been interfering with our trades.” Yuuri’s tone was sugar sweet, his head cocked to the side in question. The smug expression from the three promptly dropped at his declaration, replaced with utter surprise and confusion. “Why, it’s quite troubling whenever you were to attack my men, and use those stolen weapons and supplies as if it were meant for _your_ hands.” 

“What are you - ?” 

“It’s not wise to play dumb.” Yuuri interrupted him, the quirk of his lips growing by the minute, threatening to bare pearly whites. “One of your precious subordinates was caught trying to smuggle out some supplies meant for an upcoming trade. He was accompanied by a few others, correct?” 

He watched in amusement as the men surrounding him sported similar expressions closely resembling a deer caught in a headlight. “That would’ve _greatly_ damage our relations, you know?” 

“What did you do...?” one of the two behind him questioned, voice barely over a whisper. 

“Of course, I had them disposed of," Yuuri hummed, "too bad that you'll have to follow their example as well." 

Yuuri charged at Brenton before he could react, his hidden switchblade already in hand. The blade greeted soft skin, swift and languid, impaling the man in the chest. A choked noise spilled from the brunette's lips as the blade continued its journey downwards, stopping at the abdomen and lodging itself deeper into its victim. Blood oozed onto Yuuri’s hand as he gently pushed the man backwards, quickly retrieving his weapon only to throw the blade at the throat of another behind him. Crimson liquid pooled at the ground as the bodies fell to the floor. 

Yuuri's lips were still set in a blood-curdling grin as he crouched down to the brunette's quivering form, completely ignoring the last of the three who was currently cowering in fear. 

He took another blade hidden within his waistcoat and dug it into the man’s cheek, successfully dragging out a pained cry. Blood bubbled out of the corner of the man’s lips, his jaw clenching and unclenching as to let out inaudible screams. 

Yuuri saw it when the man died. The light in his terrified eyes slipped away to only leave pupils unfocused and still, frantic quivers that ran throughout his body quickly - almost abruptly - subsided, his jaw went slack, the heat of his body whisked away by the cold tendrils of death. He ran a blood stained hand through his hair, a low chuckle slipping past parted lips. 

It's been a while since he had the chance to let loose. 

His head whirled upward when he heard a low whimper accompanying a loud crack of the bones, only to gaze into glistening cerulean eyes. The last of the three fell down onto the ground with a thump beneath the feet of Viktor, the Russian’s heels grinding into the body's side as he made his way to Yuuri. 

A loving smile appeared on Yuuri’s lips, quickly replacing the previous one that had contained nothing but bloodlust and menace. 

“Quite a mess you’ve left here, Yuuri! Didn't I tell you to take a break?” Viktor grinned down at the younger. 

“You were following me, weren't you?” He accepted the hand that was offered to him. 

“In a way, yes.” The Russian chuckled as he pulled Yuuri up, still holding onto his hand afterwards. A whistle elicited from Viktor as he looked upon the dead bodies. “What you did back there was _really_ hot, _solysnko!_ ” 

“Vitya…” Yuuri grumbled, flicking the older’s forehead and earning a small whine in return. 

Viktor’s arms moved to wrap around his waist, pulling him close, not caring for the blood from Yuuri's attire that might've transferred onto his at contact. “So is Yura going to clean this up as well?” he asked as he nuzzled into Yuuri’s soft brown locks. 

“He’s going to be so mad,” Yuuri sighed against Viktor’s chest, eyes fluttering shut as the older rubbed comforting circles at his lower back. 

“Indeed he will be,” Viktor chortled, his shoulders shaking with amusement. 

“So much for making it up to him.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it (*^﹏^*)


End file.
